


Infection

by Colonel_Moriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colonel_Moriarty/pseuds/Colonel_Moriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Art trade with FuckingNotorious</p><p>Based on a RP with my awesome Jim. <3</p><p>MorMor with Zombies</p><p>(Do I really need to say more? Theres Jim and Seb shooting Zombies!)</p><p>Mature rating for Zombie shooting and killing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuckingnotorious](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fuckingnotorious), [truckzilla](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=truckzilla).



Jim hated days like this one. Days that were so normal and ordinary, so dull and boring. And Sebastian wasn’t around currently to entertain him either. The sniper had gone out to buy groceries down the street at their local Tesco Supermarket. 

Jim grimaced, thinking about how domestic their life was on days like this one. He had spent most of it on the couch, either typing on his laptop or speaking to clients and associates on his cell phone. Now he was watching a rerun of Glee, laying upside down, sloth like, head and arms dangling over the ground. 

If he’d get any more bored he’d jump out of the window. Considering this in earnest for a brief moment he got up to gaze outside. Nothing was out of the ordinary there either. 

A mother chasing after her child.

A man dragging his foot along while crossing the street and back. 

Little boring predictable lives they were living. Picking up his phone again Jim got a few more calls even if the last one was an incoherent, garbled message from a person the consulting criminal had thought of as decently smart. But people were so changeable, weren’t they?

And then the door was suddenly opened with a bit too much force and Sebastian stumbled in, slamming it shut behind him, locking it twice. He even pulled the chain in front of the door. 

Jim sat up, gazing over to the sniper, one eyebrow raised in a quizzical way, noticing that Sebastian’s clothes were not as tidy anymore and looked rather rugged and torn in places, his hair dishelved. His face and outfit were also splattered with blood and other liquids. 

Moran discarded the grocery bags by carelessly dropping them on the ground, breathing raggedly, gun still in his hand for some reason. He had a wide, manic grin on his face though as he approached Jim who had not deemed this important enough yet to get up. 

“Fuck, Jim, the world has gone crazy.” the sniper exclaimed then, a hoarse chuckle breaking free from deep within his throat. 

Jim was not sure what sort of strange theory Sebastian had come up with to save him from his current boredom but he was rather intrigued which showed by the smile that was growing on his lips. 

“Really? Do tell me more, tiger.” he replied calmly, legs dangling, treating this like a thrilling story he was about to be told. 

“I’m not joking, Jim. I mean it has literally gone mad. There’s mayhem out there.” Sebastian replied which caused Jims head to cock to one side. 

“That would explain why they stopped the program suddenly before airing the promo for next week’s episode.” the consulting criminal said with an annoyed sounding sigh, watching his sniper walk into his bedroom just to return a moment later with an assortment of guns which he placed on the couch table in front of Jim. 

“Pick one.” he said to his employer and Jim didn’t quite like the commanding sound in the other man’s voice but he let it slip because he was still interested in the full explanation. Gazing over the weapons he took one, weighting it in his hand, before gesturing with it at Sebastian to go on. 

But instead of a reply he saw how the sniper took out his phone, calling somebody, pacing back and forth before the person on the other side finally picked up and Moran gave them a few short orders after listening for a moment. Then he hung up again, slipping the cell phone back inside his jacket. 

Jim played with the gun in his hand as if it was a random toy. 

“Who are they targeting?”

That was the most important question for him right now. Moran reloaded his gun, placing it back in its holster before picking another of the guns which he decided to take along as well. 

“Everybody who’s not one of them.”

Jim gave a soft and annoyed sounding sigh. That was not the kind of answer he had expected and the frown on his forehead showed that clearly. 

“Please, elaborate, be so kind, Moran.” he said, voice all soft and airy but he wouldn’t use Sebastian’s last name unless he was getting really irritated or already was rather furious. But this time even that didn’t have the usual effect on the sniper who was now checking his rifles. 

Then he finally raised his gaze to look at Jim, an odd expression in his steel grey eyes, before he started to chuckle. 

“You’ll think I’ve gone nuts too, Jim, but I swear they are Zombies.”

Jim’s frustration was replaced by an excited grin within a second. He loved tacky Zombie movies and those silly little shooting games even if he was really bad at them. 

“Really now, Seb?” he cooed, giggling quietly, “Zombies? “

Following his instincts he got up and ambled over to the window, opening it to get a better look at the road. Five homeless people – or at least that’s what they looked like- turned their heads to the noise, gazing up to Jim, mouths opening as they gave off a few really ugly sounding grunts and groans. 

Still giggling the consulting criminal turned back to Moran who had started to pack his backpack in a hurry. 

“Is Holmes safe?” Jim asked then while checking his cell phone which was suddenly being flooded with text messages and voice mails. He replied quickly to a few, listening to a voicemail or two. Sebastian gave him an irritated glance, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Why would I care about Holmes now?” he replied, giving Jim a look as if he had just lost the plot. 

Jim sighed deeply, inspecting his nails. 

“I didn’t ask you to care, I asked you to tell me.” he replied, using the kind of voice as if talking to a child or a dense person, “his phone number is on your phone. Now go and be a good boy.”

Moran groaned as he watched Jim walk off into his bedroom to grab a few of his own things. The sniper hoped he wouldn’t insist on packing his Westwood but even Jim should have gotten by now how serious the situation was. Picking up his phone again he called John Watsons number since he didn’t feel like talking to Holmes if it could be avoided. 

When Jim returned with a backpack on its own Moran’s face was dark and serious. 

“I just spoke to the doctor. He doesn’t know where Holmes is, he’s not picking up his phone. And seems as Watson had to shoot poor Mrs. Hudson because she had turned into one of them. He’s currently barricading himself at Baker Street, waiting for reinforcements or something like that.”

Jims face didn’t show any empathy as he heard about Mrs. Hudson’s untimely death. She was old and dying was what people did so he wouldn’t shed any tears. And Holmes not being home sounded like he had been smart enough to leave before things got dire. Good. 

“We’re meeting Dekker and whoever is left of the team at meeting point G.”

Jim clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

“Making decisions without me now, Sebbie? Tut, tut. I don’t quite like that.”

Sebastian simply shouldered his backpack as he approached Jim. 

“We can’t stay in London with this shit going on, Jim.” he replied, sounding irritated again. Jim could really be obnoxious at times. 

Jim pulled a face. Leaving London was the worst thing one could ask of him to do. But he knew Moran was right. London was big, but at the same time too small with too many people. Best would be to hole up in a bunker and live off of canned food. The consulting criminal scoffed at that though. 

“Bossy, bossy.” he said then with an exaggerated sigh, looking over to Sebastian as if waiting for him to make the next move. 

Moran grinned slightly as he stepped directly in front of Jim, leaning a bit forward as if he was going to kiss the other man’s head. 

“Sorry boss, but I rather prefer you alive. Otherwise this world would be an incredibly dull place.”

Jim was about to agree with him when he noticed the blood on Moran’s face again. A moment later he hurried into the kitchen just to return with a wet paper cloth, gesturing to the sniper to bend even further down so he could carefully wipe the blood away, avoiding having any of the watery remains trickle down his cheek. Then he tugged at Sebastian’s clothes, searching for cuts or any other sort of injury, avoiding touching the odd liquids smeared all over the clothing. 

To his satisfaction there were none so he followed Sebastian after he had him change into a clean jacket before they headed back outside and downstairs. None of the creatures had made it past the fence yet but a woman with a horrible gash on her face glared at Jim as they stepped out of the building. He aimed his gun at her, the bullet hitting her in the eye. It was almost funny how that actually seemed to work as the zombie crumbled to the ground. 

Jim chuckled to himself as Moran put their backpacks and his rifle into the trunk of the car. Then he slipped into the driver’s seat, waiting or Jim to follow. Starting the engine he headed for the main road, gazing over to his employer. 

“Five points for every zombie I hit?” he asked but his joke wasn’t exactly appreciated by Jim who watched a child zombie leap at their car just to bounce off it. 

“Stupid.” he commented but it wasn’t clear who he meant and Moran fell silent with a quiet sigh, actually trying to avoid hitting too many of the creatures that were stumbling and limping across the street and the sidewalk. The car was their only mean of escape and he didn’t intend to damage it beyond repair. 

For the next hour they were weaving through traffic that had come to a complete halt at places, forcing them to drive across the sidewalk where Moran would crash through the chairs of an abandoned café. Jim was watching the scenery with childlike excitement in his face as they passed living and unliving. So much chaos and he had not caused any of it. It was beautiful in an eerie, alien way.

When they reached the outskirts of London Sebastian finally parked the car in front of an abandoned factory building. Stepping out of the car the two walked into the large hall where they were greeted by the sight of four men and a woman. 

Moran grimaced as he looked at the remainders of Jim’s team. This was not good at all. He nodded shortly to Dekker and Anderson, as all of them saluted to him and their employer. 

“Sir, we sealed the base after we left,” Dekker addressed Jim, “not even Mycroft Holmes could get in now without the right key and code.”

“Well done, boys.” Jim’s words didn’t match the expression in his eyes as he drew his gun, pointing it at the group, “please be so kind and check them, Sebastian. We can’t afford any bad surprises now can we?”

There were so many orders he wanted to give. Like having them hunt down the best scientists to find a cure. But in a world that was starting to crumble he had little power and he didn’t quite like the idea. These men had been loyal to him for years but how far would their loyalty go now as Jim’s spider web was losing its reach. 

Moran nodded as he approached them slowly, watching the men not even flinch as he examined them swiftly. Dekker’s face showed clearly that he wasn’t too happy with the treatment but he didn’t make a fuss, allowing the Colonel to do his job. Sebastian stepped from one to the next until he finally stood in front of Anderson. 

Without a word the man lifted his arm, showing a bloody splotch on his hip where the jacket had been torn apart by something. Fingers? Teeth? A knife? The man’s face was still calm, stoic as he looked at the Colonel. "I apologize. Things got a bit hectic."


	2. Infection - part 2

Sebastian had his gun already in his hand as he knew what he had to do now. But instead he turned his head, looking over to Jim as if he was awaiting an order from him. The other men meanwhile had taken a slow step away from Anderson whose facial expression had not changed ever since the revelation of his injury. There were not many people in Jim’s ‘company’ Moran particularly cared about but he respected Anderson greatly. 

Jim returned Sebastian’s gaze. No order was given; instead he walked over to the man to inspect the wound, tugging at the skin without touching blood. An unclear, purple liquid bubbled up from the jagged edges of the wound and Jim quickly drew his hands back.

"Sebastian, my bag." the consulting criminal’s voice was steady as he looked up at Anderson. "When?"

Sebastian seemed surprised by Jims order but he followed it instantly, walking to the spot where Jim had dropped his backpack earlier. Dekker and another man flinched slightly when Jim touched the wound. 

“An hour ago, “Anderson watched his employer calmly as if this was a most normal conversation, “just when we were about to leave the base. There were too many lurking outside to simply ram them with the car.

An hour then. Jim nodded slowly. So it took more than an hour to turn a human into a walking corpse. He had half a heart of keeping Anderson alive to see how long it would take for his brain to deteriorate but the information wouldn’t be exactly accurate. By now everybody had trained their weapon on the calm, stoic man as Jim reached into his bag to retrieve a pair of handcuffs. He tossed them to one of the men and a moment later they clasped Anderson’s wrists behind his back. 

They all knew what Jim had to do but Anderson kept silent, not even bothering with the thought to beg for his life. The first bullet hit him straight in the heart. And then as he staggered, Jim shot him in the kneecaps too. 

“Thanks.” the consulting criminal said with an almost cheerful sounding voice, a tiny smile on his face as he watched the other man fall to the ground. 

For a brief moment Sebastian had the strange hope that Anderson was not infected. That at least his death would be a dignified one. He could see on Dekker’s face that he was thinking the same thing. And then, half an hour later, the corpse on the ground started to twitch and move. Moran felt a sick, twisted sensation in his guts as the dead man opened his eyes, giving low, guttural noises that had nothing human. 

Jim, who had stayed a bit too close for Sebastian’s liking, had inspected the corpse in this half our, checking the irises to see if they would change color or if his hair would come off. It happened in the movies all the time after all. But here all that had happened was that Andersons eyes had lost their brightness, now greyer than before as he made another groan. 

“Well, that was quick,” Jim announced loud enough for the man on the ground to hear him, but with his movements hindered it would take him a while to crawl over to the consulting criminal, who wanted to know how he functioned. And then without even looking into Sebastian’s direction he added: “Shoot him when he gets too close.”

Oddly enough Anderson didn’t start crawling right away. It was as if there was still a spark of willpower left, as he seemed to struggle to get up, to stand, unable to make a sound even though his mouth moved. Moran watched the other man as his skin color turned even more pale and grey. He felt his finger twitch on the trigger of his gun, just waiting for Jim to give the order so he could finally put Anderson to rest.

But while the other men might have something close to sympathy for their former comrade, Jim only felt fascination as he even leaned forward, gazing down at the dead man as if he was an interesting biology project. Watching him transform more and more from something still resembling a human to a mindless, drooling creature took up his entire attention, especially as Anderson finally started to writhe towards him. 

Sebastian was sure he wasn’t the only one who felt bile rising inside his throat. 

"Leave the room if you feel the need to vomit." Jim's voice was strict now, in comparison to the almost delighted tone with which he had spoken earlier. It was better, though, not as wrong. "Not you, Sebastian." 

It wasn't necessary - there wasn't a single concern in his mind that thought the sniper might leave, despite wanting to. Anderson was still at a fair distance, and Jim knew Moran would have calculated the possible blood splatters in the time it would take for him to put a bullet through his skull. 

"Here I am, deary." Jim said, again with the sing-song-y hint in voice, spurring the creature on so it wouldn't get distracted by the other men in the room.

Dekker and the other left, most likely to get a smoke but also so they didn’t have to watch Anderson being reduced to a mere experiment. Sebastian didn’t even move a muscle after they had disappeared outside, forcing back the urge to call out to Jim and ask him to put an end to this. Instead he kept his gun trained on the dead man’s head as he kept crawling closer to Jim. 

Meanwhile Jim had started biting the inside of his cheek. Not because of tension or because he was uncomfortable, no, it was more because he had started to grow bored. Things were just not going fast enough for him to be interested anymore. Getting up from where he had sat down on the heels he now took two steps towards the creature before spitting a mixture of saliva and blood on the ground.

The reaction was instantaneous; Anderson's teeth halted their gnashing and his now deathly looking face twitched, eyes insane as his nails clawed at the floor, several breaking off as he struggled madly to get closer to the blood.

Dekker and the others heard the sound of the gunshot from inside, a cue for them that it was finally over. Sebastian watched them approach again then looked back down at the no longer moving corpse. 

“Promise me you shoot me in the head right away if I ever get bitten.” he muttered to Jim, finally pulling his gaze away from Anderson. 

Jim eyes were still on the man on the ground as proper death didn't seem to bring Anderson any peace whatsoever; his face contorted the way the disease had made it twist, eyes wide open and hands stilling mid-crawl, one nail half-detached from his finger, wedged into the floor. He didn't as much as twitch when Jim kicked his side. 

"Hmm, no." the consulting criminal shrugged as he turned to Sebastian, a cheerful smile on his face as though what just occurred had never happened. "Might keep you as a pet."

“Fuck you, Jim,” Sebastian hissed quickly while holstering his gun. 

Then he barked orders at Dekker and the others and a few minutes later the corpse was covered with a blanket in a final and last gesture of respect to the other man. Jim had made sure though to take a syringe full of fluid samples from the corpse, packing it neatly away. He had no use for it, although it would make an interesting threat if the need would ever arise. Also he’d need to get to a place with a microscope. 

The men’s attention was now back on Jim. 

“Okay, where are we heading from here?” Sebastian asked, while going over their possible options in his head.

Five minutes later, Jim still hadn't answered, typing and clicking away furiously at his cell phone. He wanted to use it as long as there was a connection. 

"There's a deserted police station not even three miles from here. Find it, and bring back supplies." 

Supplies meaning bulletproof- anything and more ammunition as well as walkie-talkies, that much was clear. 

"You two. Take the quietest vehicle." Jim pointed at two men, gesturing for them to leave. 

Moments later he'd instructed the others to bolt the doors after ordering young woman that would be bound to go unnoticed to find food for everyone. They wouldn’t stay here for long but until then they had to make sure this place would keep them as safe as possible. 

Sebastian sat down on a dusty crate, reloading his gun as he stared down at the empty shell lying nearby. Life sure had changed drastically since he had gotten up this morning. He tried to refocus, his attention back on Jim who was still typing away on his cell phone. 

“Boss? What are your plans? What are we going to do from here? Do we have reports from other countries? Maybe we should get out of England.” he murmured quietly, weighting his gun in his hand as if this was calming him down. One man was dead and he had to make sure to keep the rest alive so they could help protecting Jim. 

"Looking at the airports now, love, don't be impatient." Jim sounded like he was scolding a toddler for watching a television show when their parent was still watching the news. 

There was little that wasn't a big game to the consulting criminal. Their chances of survival would be much better if they left right away, statistically speaking; the virus would be given more time to spread would they stay. But the city was in chaos, most of the roads were blocked, and the police were shooting at random according to several reports on his phone. They'd be more likely to be killed by the living than the dead at this time. 

"I always thought it'd be Japan," Jim sighed cryptically and briefly flashed a pout at Sebastian. 

The sad noise he made when a little dot on his phone's screen told that Birmingham's airport had fallen matched the expression on his face. He knew things would definitely need to calm down first, or they'd have no chance at all.

Moran rolled his eyes although he had expected this reaction from Jim. For a brief moment the thought of going to India flashed through his mind. But in the end the only thing that mattered would be Jim’s orders. 

“Don’t you have things to do?” Jim suddenly snapped at him, dragging Sebastian back out of his thoughts, “go sleep.”

He rather wanted a well-rested sniper than one that nervously paced around like a trapped rat. It would only irritate him. He could see on Moran’s face that he wasn’t very fond of that idea but complied even so, leaving Jim alone with Dekker and one of the other men as well as his cell phone, that currently told the consulting criminal that he had taken the right decision to stay right now. 

Sebastian found a worn out couch in an adjacent room, stretching out on it but he couldnt find any sleep. He still could see the scenes clearly that had occurred at the Tesco. Men pushing women and children aside to flee, people getting trampled. Others getting bitten, begging for help. Groaning he draped an arm over his face, trying to block out these memories.

After two hours Jim finally joined him, flicking his forehead to make him move. The two men he had sent out earlier had returned with supplies and in good health. The woman was still out there and either dead or had an impressive determination. And Jim had decided, while he didn’t exactly feel sleepy, sitting around near a corpse which soon would start to smell wasn’t exactly the most ideal thing either. 

Sebastian grunted quietly as he shifted a bit aside to make some space for Jim. He looked over at his boss, expecting news- good or bad didn’t matter. Jim didn’t even bother to take off his shoes - kicking Sebastian right in the shins when he didn't move fast enough and curling up on his side to keep his eyes on the door almost immediately. The consulting criminal kept quiet for the most part - his voice a bit thick when he finally did speak up. 

"Heathrow is down." 

He shook his head to himself like the gesture would make the announcement leave his brain but ended up twisting his neck and lolling his head from side to side whilst scrolling past messages on his phone. 

“No big surprise there,” Moran replied just as quietly, while draping an arm over the other man, “"what about our private jet? Think any Zombies have left England? Heh, I wonder if we already got a zombie queen by now." 

That thought almost amused him as he pressed his forehead against the back of Jim’s neck.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course they can leave." 

Jim had to get annoyed with Sebastian's plain lack of zombie apocalypse knowledge once again. Anderson had gotten far with his bite - scratch, whatever it was. No reason for an infected person to hop on a boat or a plane. 

Fortunately, their private jet had been left at a safe distance from the city - no one would ever have a reason to go there, not even fleeing the total chaos. 

"Tomorrow," came the promise as Jim reached back to play with Sebastian's hair, not a far call from an owner comforting a frightened dog.

"Good." was Moran’s short reply as he closed his eyes after batting Jim’s hand away.

Uncharacteristically obedient, Jim drew his hand back and moved his arms in front of his chest, quiet as he went through a shitstorm of alarmed messages and nonsense on his phone in the hope of finding something he could possibly use. Not many people had his phone number and kept it, so it was a nuisance to have so many of them go to him for help. Jim vaguely wondered why they thought he'd want to bother helping at all now that the world - or at least England - was crumbling.


	3. Infection - part 3

Sebastian tried to fall asleep again and maybe it was Jim’s presence that finally allowed him some rest. He did question the other men’s loyalty though, now as the world was deteriorating. Once Jim’s web would unravel they might look for better options. For now they were all castaways in the same little boat and Jim still had connections. For how long, one had to see. 

As expected, Jim didn’t get a minute of rest. In the few hours Moran slept soundly next to him he was on his phone, checking the internet for the latest messages but the news he received were very conflicting and some didn’t even make any sense at all. Countless roads and airports had been shut down for safety reasons - he wouldn’t have been surprised though to find out those messages were false. Then suddenly the screen went blank and a frustrated noise was torn from Jim’s lips as he hurled the phone at the floor.

The sound dragged Sebastian out of his dreams and he was awake and fully alert within a moment.   


“What happened?” he hissed, gun already drawn and ready, eyes scanning the darkened surrounding. 

When he couldn’t find any source of danger he lowered the weapon again, trying to figure out how long he had been asleep. 

“There’s no connection.” 

Jim gesticulated wildly to emphasize the words before flopping down on his back again; glaring at the ceiling like it was to blame. No connection with the outside world meant a certain doom for all of them, but mostly for Jim. 

"That's it, then." His voice was dark, frustrated.

“Hm.” 

Moran put the gun away then moved to lean over Jim and pick the phone back up, staring at it as he held it in his hand. In would be the first time Jim wouldn’t be able to plan the next steps and would have to leave the command fully to the sniper. Sebastian idly wondered if that didn’t actually aggravate Jim as much as the situation with his phone. 

“We’re heading to our private jet tomorrow. Maybe we can get to an area with a better connection.” Moran finally offered, guessing though that his words wouldn’t have the desired effect. 

For all they knew the connection could be down all over England. Permanently.

Of course Jim wasn't completely useless without the internet - if only he had worked without it most the last ten years there wouldn't be so much of a problem, but he let himself get used to it and now the roots of a large portion of his knowledge had been torn from the ground he stood on. It wasn't an exaggeration to say he was having a mild panic attack as he balled his hands into fists, eyes flickering wildly as though he was blindly looking for a solution.

Sebastian had fallen silent again, closing the phone, setting it into one of the pockets of his jacket for now. He didn’t like it when Jim got this quiet but hoped it was a sign that he was working on something. Then he laid down again, draping his arm back over the consulting criminal.

“We should sleep a few more hours so we’re well rested before we head of tomorrow.”

Nauseous all of the sudden, Jim chewed on the inside of his cheek to try to calm down. He hadn't needed to calm down in a while now - but the key to surviving a zombie apocalypse was silence. Also, it wouldn't hurt not to have a complete mental breakdown in front one's employees. He couldn't help it - giggles bubbled from his lips before he could do anything about it, body shaking as he laughed. 

"Ha! Head off, that's clever." He turned to look at Sebastian, eyes slightly maniacal. "..Because their heads need to be taken off."

Moran sighed. 

"They're zombies. Of course it’s their heads. The brain is still what makes them going. All those nerves and information still being fired relentlessly. Just they act more like voodoo puppets. And somebody is making them dance. But who? Who spread this and how? Is it a gas? Something in the water? The food? That’s the interesting and creepy part." He pulled Jim a bit closer, gazing down at him, "we gotta be careful. If their blood or other bodily fluids can infect us, fighting from a distance is advised. I don’t want to end up like Anderson. Fuck…I really liked him."

Half of Sebastian's explanation went right past the consulting criminal. He'd seen so many horror movies and read so many classical comics (they weren't his favorite, but still) that the dynamics weren't strange to him. The voodoo puppet part, however, got his attention. He went still - almost rigidly so - and stared at Sebastian like he'd just found the cure for cancer. 

"It should be me." His eyes were working furiously again, fingers twitching.

Sebastian gave him a surprised glance. 

“You really think there’s a possibility to control them?” he murmured, trying to imagine who would possibly benefit from controlling a vast army of undead creatures that made everybody flee or hide. 

"No...“ 

Jim slowly lifted his hand to chew on the tip of his thumb, eyebrows furrowed. From what he had seen yesterday, the virus - or whatever it was - deteriorated the brain, it didn't just dumb it down. But if there was the possibility that it just cancelled out the other functions of the brain... He'd need to know. 

Then he shook his head. It'd be disgusting - an army of walking corpses. 

"Stop," he told his mind, rather than Sebastian.

Moran had to think back to Anderson and how he had struggled to fight the process even after his death. It was as if there had been still an inkling of humanity left. He suddenly feared Jim would make him kidnap random people so he could test his wild theories on them. Ugh. 

"Wouldn't it be nice if they weren't disgusting?" Jim murmured then.

Only a few minutes later and the consulting criminal no longer felt like owning an army of the undead. It'd go wrong without a doubt, and they were so painfully obvious. He sighed as he curled up and pressed his cold nose against the sniper's neck. The world - or England, at least - had turned into a cheap zombie flick. It was hateful.

Sebastian sighed quietly as his mind wandered again. Where would they fly to once they had reached the jet? France? Germany? And why was there still this unidentifiable longing for India in his mind? The sniper dozed off again until there was a sudden loud rattling noise and then the door opened as Dekker hastily stepped in. 

“Sir, we got company.” he said, not even startled to see the sniper and his boss sharing the couch. He had kind of known it for years- and still found it odd and maybe even creepy.

Jim's eyes opened immediately. 

"Keep your voice down," he hissed and jabbed Sebastian in the side. 

The sniper was lucky to have found any sleep. Jim didn't bother waiting for a response and quickly went over to the windows - they were dirty and he couldn't really see through them, so he went back and grabbed his gun from where he had wedged it behind a pillow. 

"How many?" he wanted to know then, gazing over to Dekker, finding it rather irritating that he had to wait so long for an answer. 

Dekker gave Jim a strange look. The rattling noise outside ceased for a moment, before picking up again. 

“I’m not sure,” the staff sergeant finally replied, “we counted ten but there are also quite a few jeeps about and some are not parked very close.”

He knew his reply wasn’t very satisfactory and the number he mentioned would earn him a look of disbelief from both the Colonel and Jim. 

“It's not what you think, sir. It seems to be some military task force. They haven’t made their way inside yet as there’s no other entrance or exit but same goes for us.” he added then quickly to clear things up, not really wanting to think about the possibility that they could be trapped in here like mice, “I guess they think we might be infected people, trying to hide.”

Sebastian frowned then quickly walked to his backpack, taking out a pack which contained a strange doughy yellow mass. 

“Everybody get to the cars. We got to do this the hard way it seems.” 

He handed the explosives to Dekker who nodded and quickly walked away. 

"Semtex, Sebastian, really?" James groaned and went off on a tangent about how he hired the supposedly best sniper in England and how, instead of taking care of a little problem, the guy would rather see everything go up in the air. Jim threw his hands up in an exasperated manner. Sebastian didn’t even care to answer, instead he handed something to Jim- a bullet proof vest. 

"Put it on. We're leaving in five."

Five minutes later Jim was sitting in their car again after a litany of curses (though mostly complaints) were fired at both Dekker and Sebastian, but he had put the bullet-proof vest on (even he realized complaining about the Westwood would be pointless with what the future looked like for them).

The explosion was not as dramatic as one would have thought, but enough to rip a hole into the metal doors and tear them off the hinges, allowing them to escape through billowing smoke. They could count at least four cars- all military jeeps and one van. The men wearing black uniforms were firing at them, a bullet piercing the windshield, missing Sebastian’s head by mere inches.

This caused Jim to shift in his seat to kick at the gas pedal to make the car speed off, twisting himself between two seats. Sebastian’s hand lashed out to push Jim down on the seat. 

"Keep your head down!" he hissed as he almost rammed into one of the jeeps due to Jim kicking at the gas pedal. They managed to break through the ring but the sniper knew these men would follow them. "Damn it. Who are they? And how did they find us here?" 

Was it just damn bad luck that the military had started sweeping the surrounding areas and... No. He looked into the mirror for a brief second, then gritted his teeth. 

"Fuck... So much for loyalty. That bitch Allister snitched on us. Never trust a woman with a gun."

Once again Jim proved his love for bad films on the telly could be useful as he crawled around in the vehicle until he was in the backseat and rolled the window open - several moments later he was hurling papers outside - instruction manuals, so it seemed - one for the MP3 player he bought not too long ago, one for the coffee machine Sebastian refused to understand, et cetera. There were enough to have some spread out across the window of a car trailing behind them. Whoever was in said car wasn't completely blinded, but at least it was a hindrance. 

"Why her, hmm?" he asked then, sitting back down, satisfied with his work done. 

"I have no idea. But I guess she got a better offer." Moran muttered darkly, wishing he could have executed her for this betrayal. Instead the three cars managed to widen the gap between them and those chasing them.

Jim didn’t quite have the same thoughts about the traitor that Sebastian had, idly wondering if there had been a mole in his organization. But that was nothing he should concern himself with right now. 

"Let the others go first," he half-shouted then, "You can't fly a plane." 

Whether he could or could not, Jim didn't know, but he had little trust in the sniper's ability to. Moran grimaced but let Dekker’s car pass. While the jeeps were relentless they were not as fast and soon they had shaken them finally off, allowing Sebastian to draw in a deep relieved breath before he reached into his jacket and produced Jim’s phone, tossing it to the man on the backseat.

Jim had barely waited for Sebastian to shake their followers off until he was already climbing back into the seat next to the sniper - in the process kicking him in the shoulder - and staring outside. It didn't look as different from usual, if you ignored the occasional walking dead. He opened the phone with a sigh. 

"Good job," was the half-hearted comment in regards to Sebastian's ability to not get the both of them shot.

Moran gave no reply to that comment. Instead he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, humming silent. 

"Did you see you their uniforms?" he asked then, "they had some insignia on it." He pointed at his chest, "it looked like a white lion."

Sebastian fell silent again then frowned as he continued following Dekker’s car, while Jim was still keeping himself busy with his phone. While the connection to the internet wasn’t back, there were still a few messages and things he could check. Unfortunately Moran decided not to shut up as he would have want him though, instead he glanced over to Jim, that frown still edged on his forehead as he spoke up again. 

"You think somebody might have…planned all of this?"


	4. Infection - part 4

Jim only shrugged, not even looking up from the phone. 

“The lions, it's so obvious, why would they- Either these people were too daft to function, or they didn't care about anyone finding out who had sent them. Their plan wasn't well executed. But they wouldn't be that stupid." the consulting criminal mused to himself, ignoring the snipers questioning glances which were more or less a request to allow him to follow Jim’s train of thoughts.

“Jim, what are you..?” Moran started, trying to keep his eyes on the road again.

But instead Jim cut himself off with a sign and suddenly pointed at zombie in the distance. 

"That one, through the eye."

Sebastian frowned as he couldn’t follow Jim but at his order his hand flicked to his gun, drawing it, aiming at the zombie after rolling the window down, going for a shot between the eyes.

"What now? Are we wasting ammo now?" he asked, voice not concealing his frustration.

Again he didn’t get any reply from Jim, who knew that they needed more evidence - more facts or he'd end up going mad on the single few facts that they did have. The consulting criminal sank back into his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed and only opening them to see Sebastian kill the creature, after which he closed them again. 

"I said in the eye." He slouched down a little and shrugged. "Might as well."

Moran scoffed and decided to ignore Jim because he was irritating and obnoxious right now. He had enough to deal with and a brattish Jim was his least favorite thing. And it was like Sebastian's bad mood had started to reflect on Jim, whom, in return, glowered at the scenery outside dark eyes matching the purple circles under them. After a few more complaints he finally shut his mouth.

Another hour later they finally got closer to the private airfield, the small villages they were passing through seemingly untouched although nobody was on the streets. Then Sebastian’s phone vibrated. It was Dekker, informing him that they had to stop at the next gas station.

After a quick gaze at the dashboard the sniper pulled into the abandoned gas station after Dekker’s car, stepping outside, telling Jim with a glare that he wanted him to stay put. Then he walked over to Dekker and the others and Jim could see them talk about something, Moran getting rather agitated. It became all too clear why when they opened one of the car doors and one of the men almost fell outside. 

Obviously a stray bullet had hit him when they were trying to escape the men in the black jumpsuits. He was unconscious now and while the injury might not have been life threatening he would be slowing them down. Moran rubbed his face, unsure what to do. He couldn’t just shoot everybody who wasn’t pulling their weight. On the other hand he might have to shoot them just for that reason.

To his further dismay Jim listened to commands once in a blue moon. This was not one of those times. The consulting criminal slid out of the car almost immediately after Sebastian did, though managed to be more quiet about it. Padding over to Sebastian and Dekker, he glanced at the man now on the ground. Briefly leaning up to match Sebastian's height, he finally spoke to the sniper.

"We can't take him. Too much blood." 

Sebastian stared at the body, chewing his bottom lip. Of course he knew Jim was right - it was like shouting about free candy in a megaphone and not expecting children to come running.

"Fuck." 

Sebastian cursed then gave quick orders to carry the man inside the shop that was part of the gas station. He got patched up and was left with a loaded gun- the only thing Moran could do for him now. They refilled the cars and took as many snacks and candy bars along as possible as well as bottles of water. Moran’s face was dark as he looked over the group. They were down to five now. Jim, Dekker, himself and two of the team. If this continued Jim would be the only one reaching the air field.

To make matters worse, only a vague groaning sound could be heard before a man - wearing a name badge with the gas station's label on it - appeared from where he had been slumped down in an aisle a bit further away, dragging limp legs towards the unconscious member of the team. He looked normal, yes, but the hungry sounds he was making and the look on his face definitely weren't. 

Before anyone could respond, Jim had picked up fishing net from one of the stands and started trying to jam the blunt end into the walker's skull. Needless to say it didn't work well, and the creature was now growling and snarling and trying to claw at the consulting criminal who was just barely managing holding it at a distance.

Two gunshots rang out- one from Dekker, one from Sebastian’s gun, the man slumping to the ground, twitching still for a while. The sniper grimaced. This was bad. He had thought that these things had not gotten here yet but obviously he had been mistaken. 

"Great..." he murmured then ushered Jim back towards the car. 

Just then as they stepped outside they heard loud engine noises in the distance and noticed a group on motorbikes drawing quickly closer. Sebastian’s eyes widened for a moment when he realized that they also were armed with chains, baseball bats and other similarly dangerous tools. For a brief moment he found himself wondering if these guys too were zombies but that was crazy, wasn’t it? But after the recent events, nothing seemed impossible anymore.

"And I thought the zombie movies were badly exaggerated..." he murmured under his breath, not sure if the situation wasn’t too out of there to not be warranted with laughter.

He felt Jim bat his hand away, not fond of being pushed to the car like a child that didn't know what's best for him. The consulting criminal could walk perfectly fine by himself after all. Worst of all - upon noticing the bikers, he seemed tempted to step back outside after having gotten halfway into the car, wave his hands and have a nice chat with them. But when the group got closer he, like the others men, knew something was off, his eyes gazing back up to the sniper.

"Now would be a lovely time to drive, Sebastian," he commented whilst quickly getting in the vehicle.

Sebastian gave no reply as the bikers had already surrounded them. Obviously they had split up earlier and whether Jim and his entourage was their target or not was unclear. It hardly mattered anyways. These guys didn’t even stop for a moment to shout some threats. Instead they came charging at the group. Dekker was already firing at them and the others followed suit. It was much harder to hit them right as they were moving quickly and soon drew close enough to swing their weapons at the men. One of them barely avoided being hit in the face with a chain while Dekker had to duck away from a crowbar. 

Then two of the bikers approached the car Jim was in on foot, sporting a knife and a baseball bat.

The expression on Jim's face - torn somewhere between horrified and madly enthusiastic - would've been comical if the situation had not been so dire. Pressing himself against the window, mouth ajar he stared at the things getting closer to him.

"What are you doing?" he then hissed at Sebastian, "shoot them!" 

Sebastian turned just in time to see the two leather clad blokes lumber towards the car, firing two rounds that pierced their helmets, drawing those horrible, inhuman grunts from them. As they crumbled to the ground something suddenly wrapped itself around the snipers neck and throat and he felt cold metal rings dig into his skin. 

But before he could twist away or turn to shoot, a bike revved up and Moran was yanked forcefully off his feet, hitting the concrete hard. He barely felt the impact with the sudden lack of air which made his body arch up as he was pulled along as the bike started to circle around the gas station. /Shit! /

Watching what was happening to Moran; countless warnings the man had given Jim during their years of collaboration in regards to not shooting things went up in the air as the consulting criminal bolted out of the car and aimed the gun. Firing several rounds at the air above the other biker's head Jim hoped he’d get lucky and not accidentally shoot the sniper and maybe actually manage to hit the bastard in the head that was dragging Sebastian along like a fish on a hook. 

But then they were already too far away and another one - crippled by a few stray shots into the legs - launched itself at Jim's legs, causing him to shriek - actually shriek - and kick the thing square in the face. Nails dug into the fabric of his trousers as he shot the creature through the helmet into the forehead.

Meanwhile Sebastian felt his vision grow blurry, clothing scraping over the concrete. He somehow lifted his hand, still holding the gun, aiming it somewhere above his head, trying to judge where the biker was sitting. He could hear that the first bullet missed completely. The second hit the bike and caused the engine to stutter suddenly, slowing it down. The third hit the zombie biker in the back, the man letting go of the chain as he lost control over the bike, careening into the backside wall of the shop behind the gas station. 

Moran coughed and wheezed as he clutched his throat, hearing the sound of an impact and a following explosion. Debris hit his body as he tried to get back up, still feeling his lungs burn as he tried to fill them with oxygen.

Meanwhile one of Jim’s men had grabbed the consulting criminals shoulder, pulling him quickly away as he too sent another bullet into the creature’s head that had tried to claw at Jim’s leg. 

"Please get back into the car sir," Dekker shouted. They had killed enough of the gang by now to be able to get away, "we're leaving now. Byron- you drive the Colonels car."

The suggestion aimed towards Jim was met with a wild-eyed ferocious expression as he - without thinking - raised the gun in his hands to the man's head. His voice was eerily cold and in control in comparison to the twitching of the muscles in his face. 

"Let me pass." 

Jim withdrew the gun after having given his warning and shoved the spare one he still had on him in the man's hands, well aware it'd do more damage to the rest of the gang than it would if he kept it. It felt quiet around him as he half walked, half staggered over to where he guessed Moran would be. When he finally found him the consulting criminal started pulling the debris off of him like it was the most normal thing in the world to do. 

[ “That wasn't very good, Moran, now was it?" he murmured, the coldness in his voice had made place for a slightly more hysterical tone, as he stared down at Sebastian, who was still struggling with breathing, hands on his throat. ](http://fuckingnotorious.tumblr.com/post/25146078227/this-is-a-bit-of-fanart-for-cheshiresdens-lovely)

The sniper somehow managed to sit up, trying to speak but his windpipe felt as if somebody had crushed it. Wheezing he rubbed the red marks the chain had left then opened his eyes and gazed up to Jim, almost an expression of surprise on his face. 

"O-kay...“ he then managed to utter, "I'm...okay...“ 

He wasn’t and he knew it. But he had no permanent injuries, no broken limbs, he was certain about that as he staggered to his feet, limping a bit. He even managed a crooked smile as he looked over to Dekker who took care of the rest of the zombies with the help of the remaining men. 

Jim clicked his tongue at Sebastian’s reply, still torn between cursing up a storm at the other men left in the team for wanting to leave their best man here when he only had a few scratches (well, that is what they'd be referred to) and punching Sebastian in the face for daring to get himself into such a dangerous situation. Various phrases such as 'A dead sniper is no good to me' passed his mind but he uttered none of them, instead gesturing Dekker over to help him walk. At least Moran wasn't unconscious. Still, Jim knew that any other member lower in rank might've been left there to die. 

"Shut up," he hissed then at Moran, not liking the fact that the sniper was trying to act tough at a moment when it was so painfully obvious that he was lying, "Let’s go."

Dekker obeyed and stepped closer, although his face showed clearly that he didn’t think he had done anything wrong in the attempt to protect the boss' life. He helped Moran along and halfway carried him over to the car. The jacket and shirt as well as the sturdy pants had saved Sebastian from losing too much skin and he was quickly patched up. Then he slipped back into the driver’s seat, still breathing way too raggedly. "We...can...go...“ he muttered, looking over to Jim. 

Of course letting Moran drive was not a good decision at all. The Colonel wouldn't randomly pass out, but it was clear that when one gets dragged about by a motorcycle they deserve at least some rest, and the consulting criminal wasn't about to have their best gunman exhaust himself further. He didn't have to do much other than glare at Sebastian and point at the backseat, then nod at Byron - who was still assessing the situation as Jim slipped into the passenger's seat.

Moran sighed as he followed the unspoken order, not in any state to argue with Jim. Closing his eyes he stretched out as far as possible as Byron took the car back on the street. Dekker’s car took the lead again, heading into a south western direction. The sniper idly brushed a hand over his face, feeling a small cut there, not sure when he had received it. Most likely when some of the debris from the bike hit him. His mind felt all fuzzy right now and he closed his eyes, trying to rest while he could. 

It still was not clear if they would even get to Jim's plane or if it still existed.

Jim was uncharacteristically quiet as Byron drove and Sebastian rested in the backseat. He did, however, check their driver for wounds without making an effort at hiding what he was doing. It didn't take him long - the man's posture as well as his breathing pattern told him enough. After about ten minutes of driving without distractions, he reached down for his bag and dug up a set of small plasters, twisting and turning in his seat to stick a row of them onto the cut on Sebastian's face. He really couldn't have him at a higher risk of contamination after all.

Sebastian barely felt the touch, already halfway asleep. His body was aching all over so it was a good thing he could rest while he had the chance. His breathing had grown fast and a bit ragged by now but in his current condition that was hardly any surprise. Shivering as if freezing he wrapped his arms around himself, subconsciously, feeling his mind start to grow even more blurry. Ugh... Weird image were flashing by in his dreams, mostly war related although he couldn’t say why he'd think of this of all things now. 

Byron only looked at the Colonel from the mirror a few times, hoping their boss knew what he was doing. But for now they had no chance as to keep pressing onwards and hope they’d reach the airfield in time. 


	5. Infection - part 5

"Eyes on the road, Byron. I won't be very happy if you crash this car." 

Jim had eventually gotten fed up with how the man kept looking in the rear view mirror and was ignoring Sebastian himself for the most part, not even looking at him half as much as the other member of their team did. He'd look at him again once he got better; this whole half-out-of-its business wasn't really working for him. 

Luckily for them, the airplane was at a rather deserted place and the population thinned out severely - which was a good thing.

When they finally arrived and the car stopped Jim was out in an instant and didn’t bother to walk to Sebastian's side to help him, no, he left that bit to Byron who thankfully saw the look on his boss' face and stepped towards the side of the car in case the Colonel would he need assistance. 

The consulting criminal himself was watching warily from the corner of his eye, backpack slung over his shoulder as he marched through the grass over to the plane that was still there, ready and intact.

Moran came back to his senses, feeling disoriented though, rubbing his throat that felt dry and achy, every swallow burning. His tongue also felt swollen and he had trouble to focus his eyes. Rubbing them he finally slipped out of the car, almost falling, hastily grabbed the door. What was going on? He shouldn’t be this weakened by that little incident. He coughed again, pressing his hand to his mouth, feeling the wetness of his spit and... He carefully pulled the hand away then quickly wiped it on his jacket before grabbing his backpack and rifle case to follow Jim.

Once they were around the plane someone was appointed to fly - thank god they had brought a pilot, or at least someone with a (possibly fake) license. A quick inspection let him know that there was enough kerosene to fly, but not enough to get them out of Europe. He pointed at a tiny dot on the map, an island.

The sniper made his way to Jim, staring at the point on the map his boss was pointing at. He forced himself to appear calm and ready while inside his mind he felt like his brain was corroding. 

Something was completely off and he couldn’t place it. But he had learned to push aside such thoughts and the pain so hopefully nobody would realize his current state of weakness. Not that he was afraid of being shot or left behind. No, there was something else he rather feared. Unloading everything from the trunks they finally climbed the plane, the one assigned as pilot taking his seat, starting the engines. Moran sunk into his own seat, closing the seat belt, managing to breathe slowly.

But it didn't seem like Jim felt like granting the sniper another moment of peace. After briefly leaning over one of their men and tugging something away from him, casually shoving it into his pocket and brushing a flap of his jacket over the object to hide it from plain sight, he walked past Sebastian and snapped his fingers; a clear sign for him to follow. He waited in the back of the plane, silently, shielded from view.

Moran groaned inside but he slowly rose to follow Jim along. He saw Dekker look over to him, something in his eyes telling Sebastian that the other man was obviously still waiting for a reaction for the fact that he had tried to leave him behind. But Moran couldn’t care less about that now. He was busy enough trying to keep walking upright and in a steady pace and not stumble or swerve. It felt like somebody was starting to replace his brain with cotton, everything muffled.

Jim waited for Sebastian to step closer then shut the curtain separating them from the rest just in case and shoved the sniper down on a crate which was most likely filled with various weapons and / or machinery, no doubt. He didn't speak as he fished the gun from his pocket, his eyes calm, cold, even. Sebastian stumbled on the crate, sitting down, quickly lifting his head after having caught himself again, looking at Jim, at first with confusion then with the dawning realization that his act had not been as convincing as he had hoped. 

The click the safety pal made faded into obscurity with the roar of the engine, barrel of the gun pointed between Sebastian's eyes. The sight of the gun didn’t seem to scare him though- why would it? It wouldn’t be the first time. With a tired sigh he even leaned his head against the muzzle of the weapon, staring at Jims face. 

Jim still remained quiet, waiting for the sniper to say something, but nothing on his face made it seem like he wasn't already assuming the worst. There was no anger there, though, and for a split second he almost seemed tired.

"I'm okay." Moran said, voice no longer slurred but still a bit coarse sounding. "Maybe I hit my head somewhere." 

He felt the cut on his chin start to itch, fighting the urge to tear the band aids off and scratch at it. 

"It's not what you think..." he started again.

"Say that again, dear." his employer replied swiftly, making a gesture as if to wipe Moran’s words aside.

Then Jim's free hand found its way to the side of Sebastian's head, slowly petting through his hair, dirty with gravel and sand. He shifted his hand to place his fingers under the sniper's chin to force him to keep looking at his boss. 

"Be honest, this time." he advised him then

The consulting criminal was already convinced, now. There was no disturbance in the rest of the plane - no one knew what was going on, then.

"I don’t think I'm..." 

Moran started but he could get to finish his sentence when another bout of coughing interrupted him. He pressed his hand to his mouth once again, tasting copper on his tongue, afraid to look at his palm. He wasn’t infected. Anderson had not been coughing. Nobody he had watched in and around Tesco’s had been coughing. 

Jim's finger didn't so much as twitch on the trigger like he didn't even think of shooting Sebastian when the man launched into a coughing fit. They always did that in the movies, his mind briefly supplied, they always did that and that's how you got infected. Maybe that was the film about the Ebola virus.

It...it had to be something else, Moran thought, fighting panic welling up inside him. After all he didn’t feel any violent urges. The taste of his own blood didn’t make him feel hungry...as he expected he'd be if it was /that/. It made him more nauseous. He finally pulled his hand away, staring at the splotches of red on it. Red. It was still blood. Real blood. He was not one of them.

Jim screwed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, Sebastian's hand was tainted with his own blood. The consulting criminal shoved the gun back into his pocket. 

"What are you doing?"

"I...don’t know." the sniper sounded confused - like a child that had been asked a question it couldn’t answer. Or an intricate math problem where he didn’t know the solution. "I...I'm okay. I just feel...woozy...“ 

He closed his eyes; body swaying as he finally came to rest against the wall behind the crate, 

"Fuck...Jim...what’s going on? I know I'm not infected. I just know it. I'm nothing like Anderson." 

But then the bikers had not been anything like Anderson either. Moran felt a shiver run down his spine. 

"I'm still...myself. Coherent...“ 

Mostly, yes. But his brain wasn’t working as quickly as it should.

It didn't happen often that Jim couldn't understand something, mostly he understood too much, understood everything because his mind worked too damn fast and supplied information he didn't want so why couldn't it do so now and - stop. 

"Your first job." he demanded as he crouched down in front of the crate. 

Brain check, then. He pressed his fingers against the joints of Sebastian's jaw to open his mouth. More blood. Not good, not good at all.

"Some bloke that didn’t pay you up." Moran replied, forcing his brain into a state where it would give him the information Jim requested. It caused him a terrible migraine and almost paralyzed him for a moment," you had left a rifle for me in that abandoned office building. I caught him when he left his girlfriend. Right between the eyes. You were pleased." 

He managed to grin, trying though to push Jim's hand away, not wanting him near his mouth, near the blood, near his filthy, sick body. He knew something definitely was wrong. But the exact cause escaped him. Rubbing the band aids he took slow, deep breaths, to avoid another coughing fit, heart beat feeling erratic.

Jim beamed for a brief time as if Sebastian was a puppy who'd just done an impressive trick successfully for the first time and Jim was the owner but it was so easy for him to look right through the facade Moran was putting up and realize he was not doing well at all. He stood up again, plucking at the man's jacket as well as his shirt to see if something had punctured a vital organ.

But besides the various cuts and scratches, some deeper than others, there was nothing that looked like a deep wound. Nothing life threatening either. And definitely nothing that gave a hint as to why Moran was displaying all these odd symptoms. Just then the intercom suddenly crackled to life. 

"Sir, we got a problem." it was the voice of the man piloting the plane, "there are two army jets flanking us now and telling us to return or they'll shoot us down." 

The snipers body stiffened and he tried to leap up just to find his legs too weak to support him currently. 

"Fuck!"

Jim gave an angry sound. So they were shooting planes down to prevent anyone from leaving the country, no surprise there. Jim quickly went over to a window to check. It was true. He should've known. 

He left Moran where he was and disappeared into the cockpit where he snarled instructions at their pilot, ones ranging from demanding them to just shake them off to landing if this was impossible. They'd have to land if they couldn't ditch these two planes, or they'd all die.

The pilot knew there was no chance for him to shake the military machines. So he started to let the machine sink to the ground, a large forested area getting visible after a while. With a curse the pilot turned, trying to find a better landing spot that wouldn’t kill them instantly upon impact. 

Sebastian somehow had managed to stand, leaning against the wall, staring out of the window. Even if they would land safely…the pilots would send all needed information to those awaiting them on ground. He couldn’t let himself be caught like this. They might assume they're all infected and then...Jim... He swallowed, fumbling for his gun.

The consulting criminal was meanwhile seething with silent rage. That was that, then. Virtually their only plan to survive for longer than a few days completely annihilated. The army wouldn't just let them stay wherever the hell it was they were holed up, no; chances were they'd get shot upon walking out. Perhaps they'd demand information, though. 

After all, not everyone just owns their own plane as well as an arsenal of weapons. Yes, they were bound to get killed. Jim walked out of the cockpit, pinching the bridge of his nose to fight an upcoming migraine.

"It would be good if everybody took their seats and fastened their seatbelts, "the pilot’s voice came over the intercom again. 

Dekker was already sitting, Byron following him as well. Only the Colonel was missing now and he too should better be seated once the plane came down on the open field below. 

Sebastian stared at the gun in his hand, then finally realized that his plan was ridiculously stupid. Not the part about offing himself so nobody would think the others were infected, no it was more than he couldn’t fire a gun while they were inside the plane. Sitting on the ground he placed the weapon back in the holster, feeling his mind start to reel again, consciousness slipping. 

"No...damn it... Not now...“

Jim had decided to ignore all safety regulations as he found his way back to the man to make sure the Colonel was back in his seat as well, wobbling a bit. Rather than hoisting him up he smacked him right in the face. 

"Up, Moran, I won't ask you again."

Sebastian grunted and somehow managed to pick himself up, stumbling back into his seat where he more or less collapsed, earning a curious glance from Dekker. Cursing in his mind he closed his eyes, feeling the impact with the ground, the entire plane shaking and bouncing, all sorts of crates and boxes shifting around before the pilot managed to bring the machine to a halt. When everything had grown silent again Dekker turned his head to gaze out of the window. He was not surprised that they were already expected. 

"Seems we got a welcome committee, boss...“he murmured, looking back over to Jim.

The consulting criminal who had remained seated even after the plane came to a halt decided that the best way to see whether or not the ones outside were hostile would be to see for oneself - and he wasn't really planning on dying first if they were. 

"Pretend you're nice." was the only advice he gave Dekker before nodding to the door.

Dekker blinked, eyes widening for a moment then he got up, glaring at Sebastian as if to say 'It should be you. You're almost dead anyways, Colonel', but he didn’t voice his opinion out loud as he opened the door to the plane. 

The rest of the group was waiting, but no gun shot came. But they could hear movement before men in black military styled uniforms came storming in, guns and rifles aimed at Jim and his companions. And there was the insignia again, the white lion. One of them, obviously the commanding officer, gestured Jim and the others to raise their hands and not try anything funny.

Various options ran through Jim's mind as soon as he spotted the insignia - none of which plausible enough to make any sense. He felt his headache worsen as he slowly lifted his hands, the signature smirk on his face making it seem like he thought there was really nothing going on in the world but sunshine and daisies. 

It wouldn't be difficult for the men to guess which one was in charge- all the men in their battle-ready outfits and Jim in his expensive suit. 

"Hello.~" he greeted the intruders, not looking phased in the least by having guns and rifles aimed at his head. 

If anything it even seemed to amuse him. 

Handcuffs clicked around Jim's wrists before he was grabbed by the arms by two soldiers and dragged outside. Nobody spoke to him as he and the others were pushed into a black van. Various amused-sounding flirtations were uttered as Jim played his part, pretending not to mind being tugged along and all but thrown outside.

Moran looked around, feeling naked without his gun, waiting to be placed in the van as well but instead he was dragged over to a separate car. Had they noticed...? No, that was not possible. Sure he wasn’t in best shape but... 

He started to struggle, not wanting Jim to be brought to wherever the goal was without him being close by. But the men were stronger now as he was not on top of his game, feeling a needle being jabbed into his arm and then everything turned black.

As Sebastian was separated, all hints of the smile burnt from Jim's face the second that happened, his mask completely gone as well as the joking tone in his voice. 

"What do you think you're doing-" he cut himself off, hissing. "That won't be necessary, let him go." 

He started to struggle to get out of the van.

But he wasn’t given any reply as the doors to the van were simply closed on him. Dekker looked at him, then shrugged his shoulders. 

"It's better this way," he murmured although nobody had asked him for his opinion, "he's as good as dead anyways." 

He was, or so he thought, just stating facts.

"You shut your mouth." was all Jim hissed at Dekker - a threat would've normally followed, but what did he have to threaten him with? 

He had nothing, his entire empire was crumbling along with the world and they'd been handed over to people who did not seem to think fondly of them. Best not to give them a bargaining chip.

The van started to move and an hour later suddenly came to a halt again. They must have been on a road, maybe even the highway guessing from the sound the tires were making. Then the doors were once more opened and Jim found himself on a military installation, now pushed towards the entrance of a large building. The consulting criminal walked along without a protest, not once inquiring about the sniper.

They were brought into some sort of waiting room before; once again, they were separated. Or rather Jim was as he was gestured to follow along. There wasn’t anything he could do so he had to either obey or be forced to. And that was not a good idea currently. He was led down a long hallway until a door was opened and he was brought into what looked like an ordinary office. A swiveling chair was set behind a large desk, backside turned to Jim currently. As it turned around he found himself face to face with Mycroft Holmes.

Jim suppressed a heavy sight. He should've known. He should've expected Mycroft bloody Holmes of all people to be so theatrical. Jim could just shoot himself in the face for dismissing any thought that lead to this conclusion. 

"Bit dramatic, don't you think?" he offered as if talking to an old friend, one whose head he'd have cut off, that is.

Mycroft’s gaze was calm and stoic as usual. 

"I'm not sure how this is dramatic considering what you saw outside. I noticed you did quite a good job keeping yourself alive so far. I didn’t expect anything less from you though, Jim." He too was wearing a military uniform now, bearing the same insignia as the rest, "but I'm sure you must have tons of questions." 

He gestured the men to remove Jim’s handcuffs and leave them alone. Then he got up to prepare a cup of tea for the consulting criminal. 

"Go ahead. Ask away."


End file.
